I'd Lie
by The Last Poison Apple
Summary: Songfic for the Taylor Swift song of the same name. Winner of the Taylor Swift Songfic Competition down at HPFC. Post-war. Hermione and Draco have been having little meetings in the dead of the night, and both seem to enjoy the other's presence.


**Done for the Taylor Swift Songfic Competition on one of the forums. The song I was given was "I'd Lie", and my chosen pairing was Dramione. This wasn't one of my better pieces, and it's really short, but I hope you enjoy it.**

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

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The door swung open, revealing a slightly flustered looking Draco Malfoy. Hermione just looked up, smiling, and patted the floor next to her. Draco lingered at the door for a moment as he always did, then strode over to her side. He sat down next to her, and they immediately continued their conversation from where they had left off the previous night.

Their conversation was always easy and free flowing, and as Draco recounted how he'd snuck down to the kitchens the night before after they'd left for their common rooms, she found herself counting the colours in his eyes. The candle light was reflected in them, and Hermione could see the warm oranges juxtaposed with the blue-gray of his irises, the same colour that his father's eyes took on.

They debated over elf rights that night, and as usual, their debate more or less escalated into an argument, and Hermione knew that Draco had a… _fetish_ for arguing. She knew a lot of things about him, and he her. When they'd first met in the Room of Requirement it had been more than slightly awkward –he had, after all, taunted her for six years prior, and she was Harry Potter's best friend while he was the son of one of the Dark Lord's inner circle members –and yet they found that they seemed to click instantly once they'd resolved to put their differences aside. Surprisingly the room still functioned well after the fiendfyre, though the room with hidden objects was accessible no longer.

She knew that he had been born colour blind –nothing a little magic couldn't fix –and obviously she knew from sixth year that if he cried, he did so in desolate areas; she knew that he liked green, not just because it was the Slytherin colour, but also because as a child, he'd found the green of the trees in his garden very calming after his father's punishments; she knew that he had once had a sister, and from a photo he'd shown her, she'd been very, very beautiful. She'd died many years ago, though, at fifteen years of age, and it'd been a very hushed up matter. She'd been home schooled, so not many knew of her, and it warmed her to know that Draco thought he could tell her. He hadn't even told Pansy or Blaise.

Maybe opening up was easier for them because they came from completely different worlds. Neither had to be afraid of the other judging them for something that their side might have scoffed at or frowned upon; both of them accepted whatever it was the other was telling them about, and both of them offered the other much-needed comfort in the aftermath of the war. She told him about things like cars, and he'd even confided that he'd seen those on the streets once and would like to learn to "make one move in spite of their horribly loud batteries". She'd laughed and had told him the differences between an engine and a battery, and she hadn't heard him get the two confused since. It made her happy to see that he listened to her.

Hermione didn't regret a thing, other than the fact that it hadn't happened earlier. She found a much better listener in Draco than in Ron or Harry, and she respected him for his silent patience. And as their meetings in the room became a nightly occurrence, she couldn't help but notice that her respect was slowly morphing –first into friendship, then into something more.

Hermione Granger, muggleborn witch, was falling in love with Draco Malfoy, ex-death eater.

At three a.m., both of them left the room, parting ways at the staircase as usual to head back to their respective dorms. She made her way back to the lion's den as he made his way back to the serpent's pit, and as always, her head was in a fuzzy state –talking to him took her mind off everything. The war, the people they'd lost, the things they'd had to endure, and even more were all but forgotten whenever she looked into his eyes.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, she didn't notice she was staring at him until Ginny pinched her. "Who you staring at, Hermione?"

"No one," she lied, looking back down at her toast.

"Was it Malfoy? I've heard you two have been rather… _close _during Arithmancy lately," Ginny said, in a teasing tone. "Have you fallen in love, Hermione?" she stage whispered.

Hermione forced a laugh, and rolled her eyes. "Of course I haven't," she lied. She noticed Draco nod at her from the Slytherin table, and she returned her attention to the youngest Weasley. "No, of course not."


End file.
